


components of a herald

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: Other, So here's this, but i'm intimidated to hell and back by the DA fandom atm, haha not really original work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 20:36:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3263564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	components of a herald

_Here is what composes her;_

The solidity of grassy ground underfoot, soil crumbling beneath the heel of her boot, hollow reeds rooted in the ochre earth at the lake’s edge clacking vacantly in a sudden wind. Clean air defiled by the stench of sweat and ambition.

Supple leather spinning against calloused palms, the grips of her daggers worn and discolored, the blades always singing, singing, singing in her hands; battle tinging her cheeks red, that familiar heat-haze, the slowing of time, cords of crimson dangling frozen in midair. The tender skin of throats unraveling, her clawing fingers patiently untangling the skeins of men.

Firelight flickering in eyes of molten silver, burning runnels in her cheeks. Tongues of flame licking at the sky, embers guttering for sudden gales of laughter; the stretch of scarred lips, smoke-roughened voice scratching at the surface of their companionable camaraderie- ( _read it again, Kaariss, once more, no laughing this time_ ). Supper scooped sloppily by hand from dented tin plates, forced down between clenched teeth too quick to taste anything more than residual grease.

Hips clashing against hips, desperate fingers scrabbling at the patchy fabric of a louse-ridden bedsheet ( _there, right there, faster faster faster take me have me please_ ), skin breaking beneath too-eager teeth, a wet red circle gleaming in the dimness of the candle’s light. Lips that taste of cherry wine, her nails dragging bright-burning gouges into the curve of a rigid back, comet tails connecting constellations in her skin. Steady, rhythmic breathing, after, curled away and folding in on themselves, pale islands shrinking with the tide.

(Letters, afterwards, for weeks, searing words etched with forceful sincerity into thin scraps of parchment. Each one screwed into balls, flicked into the fireplace. There is want and there is need- emotional and physical on either side of the metaphorical border, time-worn and immovable. There can be no mingling; this much she believes to be true).

A yearning in her blood to be a part of something greater, a single organism, the tumult and tempest of resistance ( _I am myself, I am myself, I am myself_ )- holding orders in the forefront of her mind instead, the primal efficiency of the ambush, the grim satisfaction of grinding steel into cartilage and bone.

(Occasionally, rampage; striking fury-blind into the depths of that writhing crush of warm and vulnerable bodies, skulls cracked, ribs driven into lungs, indiscriminate; everywhere strewn the wreckage of their bodies, her heel grinding contorted countenances into fine red slurry. She is rarely reprimanded; the wildness is messy, but it gets the job done).

_Here is what composes her:_ open skies and the clash of steel, embers flickering amidst the muddled darkness; lips that taste of summer, trysts grown sour on the tongue; a single-minded purpose, everything put right, everything at an end.

Everything at end.


End file.
